I'd Like That
by Totally-T3ii3
Summary: Intended to be a series of drabbles, has become a crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.
1. John's Decision

A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter: John's Decision.<p>

Rating: PG

* * *

><p>John sat down across from Sherlock, leaning forward and looking at his friend very seriously. He'd decided to do this over the last week, seeing Sherlock look quizzically at the fellows of Scotland Yard when they made reference to an internet joke, had made up his mind. A young policeman had commented on Sherlock being the personification of "Leroy Jenkins" Sherlock's eyebrows had risen, then rose twice over when everyone laughed at his lack of knowledge. Sherlock hadn't cared, but John sure as hell had. He was now on a mission to get Sherlock to join at least a few social networking sites. Apparently his presence did not go unnoticed, the next moment Sherlock peeked over his book to look at John.<p>

The pure look of determination on John's face made him look back down. John had his tongue on his upper lip, and his bottom lip pursed around it. It was John's I'm-about-to-talk-about-something-Shelrock-isn't-going-to-want-to-talk-about look. Sherlock decided, then, that whatever it was, the answer was no.

"Sherlock..."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is yet."

"Doesn't matter. The answer is no, John."

"Hear me out!"

Sherlock sighed, and put his book down on his knees, John wasn't persuasive, but maybe if he humored the man he'd drop it, "What?"

John knew that tone. It was Sherlock's I'm-just-pretending-to-listen-so-you-don't-get-cross-and-quit-making-me-tea tone. John already felt he was losing control of the situation, and the conversation hadn't even begun yet. For a moment (and just a moment,) John seemed uncertain of what he was about to request, and while Sherlock was chalking that up to a win, John inhaled, then spoke: "I want you to get a Facebook. And download an instant messenger."

Sherlock was perplexed, so he said nothing to encourage John to elaborate. He had been requested stranger things (for cases, of course!) but he still hadn't expected this. Why should John care if he had one of those silly things? He had no need for them. No interest at all.

John took the silence as a refusal, but he decided to elaborate,and grasp the situation before it became entirely hopeless, "Now, listen. I think you'll rather like social networking. No- no. Don't pull that face. Listen to me. It's fun. You can add everyone from the Yard, and you can message me instantly when I'm upstairs, or not here, or when my phone is off."

"Or I could just call for you. Like I do now." Sherlock replied, "Or text. Like I do now."

"Well, there's another reason too, Sherlock."

"Such as?"

"Well, often now people run into trouble online. You know. People get kidnapped, and- or murdered from too much social networking."

To this, Sherlock raised his brows with interest, "But I already 'social network' with my site-"

"No body reads your bloody site!"

Sherlock glared, put-off, "Then what makes you think they'll add me on bookface?"

"Facebook, Sherlock. Keep up." John smiled, and then gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back because Sherlock's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he gave John the dirtiest glare he could muster. Which, if you were wondering, is pretty dirty.

"No." he said, now just being petulant and returned to his book.

John plucked the book from his friends hands, and Sherlock glared, "You can advertise your services on Facebook, Sherlock. You could get little things to tide you over between big cases."

Sherlock snatched his book back, "No."

John sighed, and decided to drop it.

For now.


	2. Bookface

A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter: Bookface.<p>

Rating: PG

* * *

><p>Over the course of the next week, Sherlock found himself unearthing some not-so-concealed hints that John left behind. All of which were encouraging Sherlock to join the new era. Sherlock really had nothing against technology, he just didn't have any reason to have a Bookface, or an instant messaging service. He loved e-mail, and he loved texting; it was a lot for him to say he loved something, but he legitimately did love these parts of the millennium, and he would not trade them for anything less.<p>

However, there were just some things he deemed unnecessary, and that was social networking. He'd had a Myspace, for a short time, but he'd offended someone at Uni and they'd hacked into it, and destroyed the whole thing. Oh, he got them back (there mother was very displeased to find the homoerotic images all over their Myspace the next morning) but he felt no need to return to social networking after that incident. He had no one with which to network socially, even though his entire consulting business was by word-of-mouth, it still got around in the right places, and that was all Sherlock cared about. He, actually, loved most modern advancements, but everything he'd read about Facebook was people knowing your business, and he didn't want just anyone knowing his business. Not to mention that it was his business to know everything about everyone, and he didn't need some stupid website for that.

John, however, was being so infuriating he was considering doing it just to make John stop! It wouldn't have been so bad had John been discrete, or at least tried to be. If he at least pretended that he wasn't trying to bully Sherlock into being social, then Sherlock could ignore it. He could feign ignorance. Easy. No problem. As it was, John was making it painfully obvious, and it was impossibly to ignore.

John left a note in the fridge: "Send me a Tweet if you need anything while I'm out"

John set Facebook as his homepage on his laptop, so when he left his computer sitting around, and Sherlock went to use it, he was confronted- multiple times a day- with the sign up instructions.

John had too-loud conversations with Sarah about poking her on Bookface, or Facebook, or whatever it was. John insisted on correcting him, casually, each time he used the wrong name.

John purposely ignored Sherlock, and laughed loudly at pictures his friends would post.

John joked with Mrs. Hudson about her banner on Bookface. Sherlock didn't even know what that meant either, and it made him mad.

John had his volume all the way up, so Sherlock heard the ping when John got a new instant message. It grated on his nerves.

John talked about the latest Bookface drama with Lestrade at crime scenes, while Sherlock was looking at the corpse. He had wanted to throw a tantrum.

John talked to Anderson about a supposedly-hilarious video on youtube.

Sherlock seethed.

John talked to _Mycroft_ about the latest updates to Yahoo messenger.

Sherlock was livid.

After nearly eight weeks of this foolish run-around, Sherlock hit a breaking point. When Sherlock was lounging on the couch, and John was sitting too close, laptop on his knee's 'skyping' with Sarah and chatting about what to name their couples-album on Facebook (There! See, John, see? He knew the proper bloody name, so drop it!) Sherlock realized he could not win. This was a very crippling feeling for Sherlock, he was unaccustomed to losing ("Like Charlie Sheen," John had once joked and then pointed out Sherlock would get the reference if only he was on Facebook.) Thus, the feeling came out as rage, he threw his arms into the air and positively screamed:

"ALRIGHT! I'LL MAKE A BOOKFACE!"

"Facebook." John replied smugly, as if he'd expected the outburst.

Sherlock just glared, and threw himself back onto the couch. He covered himself in his dressing gown and pouted gloriously for the rest of the evening.


	3. Like Victor Frankenstein

A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter: Like Victor Frankenstein.<p>

Rating: PG

* * *

><p>The next day John unearthed Sherlock's laptop from the desk under the steer skull lamp. Then, while trying not to grin, he handed it over to Sherlock. The detective grimaced as he watched John boot it up. Sherlock was, in no way, interested in what was about to happen. He felt a swell of disgust in his belly, and he aimed it towards John, who was trying poorly to hide his smile by chewing on his bottom lip. This proved only to make Sherlock angrier, and he contemplated getting up and stomping away, but John stopped him by plopping the laptop on Sherlock's lap, and leaning back on the couch while Sherlock silently fumed.<p>

"It's not hard," John soothed, as if he was coaching a child on multiplication, "You'll get the hang of it in no time. You might even have fun."

"If this doesn't help me solve a case soon, I will have a second head in the fridge." Sherlock replied sourly, but typed in the painfully familiar URL to his address bar. He winced as the white-and-blue screen loaded. That it was on his strictly-used-for-research-and-the-work-laptop made it even worse.

"Threats, Sherlock." John tutted.

Sherlock filled out the necessary information (while complaining about people being nosey,) uploaded a photo (after whining that he didn't want to, and only conceding when John warned to upload one of him in his dressing gown and pajamas if Sherlock didn't pick one of his own,) and added John as a friend (which, he argued, was ironic considering they were not friends today.) Then, when he thought he was done, John sprung more stipulations on him, he had Sherlock fill out all of his information for Yahoo Messenger. Sherlock was disgusted by the grinning yellow smiley-face and purple exclamation-point. He changed the icon, quickly, to a dark rain cloud. John made no comment on it, and that was good, because if he had Sherlock would have told him right where to shove it.

Three weeks.

Three weeks was how long it took Sherlock to have most people he knew added onto his friends list on Facebook. Actually, that was the first thing Sherlock noted about Facebook: people you hated, and who hated you right back, would accept your friend request. Within the first few days Donovan, Anderson, and Sebastian Wilkes all sent him friend requests, and he had accepted. He accepted to be smug, but nothing seemed to change at the crime scenes. Soon after them, Sherlock had Mrs. Hudson, Sarah, Anthea (even though that wasn't her real name so Sherlock suspected she'd only done it to keep tabs on him for Mycroft, and after denying her and going in circles for a week, John 'hacked' his account and added her for him.) Molly, John's sister Harry, and Detective Dimmock all soon requested him as well.

Then came the fans, and oh, did Sherlock love the fans.

Yes he did.

By week four, it dawned on John that Sherlock had more friends than him, and he usually made his posts something to do with insulting someone (even going as far as to tag them!) That was when John realized he'd made a monster.


	4. Web Consultant

A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter: Web-Consultant.<p>

Rating: PG

* * *

><p>John, eventually, accepted the social networking monster formerly known as Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective, and was at least glad his flatmate chose to ignore the existence of Twitter (dear God, he'd probably tweet every thought that popped into his aggravating little head,) Tumblr (because, let's face it, Sherlock would post nausea-inducing pictures from the crime scene, and offend everyone and their grandmother,) and Deviant Art (this John could not allow, he even blocked the site on he and Sherlock's laptops so the man would not find it. Undoubtedly the less-than-accurate, and always-artistic portrayal would send the man into a tizzy.) If he got on <em>those <em>sites, well, John might be forced to drastic measures. Drastic, as in, involving their laptops, and a sledge hammer. As it was, having Sherlock harass everyone on Facebook, wasn't the worst thing that ever happened. Actually, after about six months of it, John found he really didn't mind it very much at all.

Hell, he even liked it.

Getting Sherlock agitated from a distance was even more fun than riling him up face-to-face. It was hilarious, because John could hear Sherlock huffing as he punched in replies to John's posts (which, were seldom flattering, and often about Sherlock.) They made sure to not take it personally, despite the very heated arguments they could get into via Facebook (that is a story for another time.) They also made sure to be on separate levels of the flat. It was almost like a game, and John was pretty sure he was winning.

John Watson;_  
>Sherlock stop cutting off Mrs. Hudson, you whore.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>I am not a whore. -SH<em>

John Watson;_  
>Stop cutting off Mrs. Hudson, you not-whore.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>You just keep getting more and more rude. -SH<em>

John Watson;_  
>You're the rude one, Mrs. Hudson can never finish a sentence.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Its because she stutters. -SH<em>

This was a standard day for John, anymore. He really couldn't say he minded it, though. John tried to leave a lot of the Facebook chats for when he was at the surgery and had some down-time, but they wound up occurring when they were both at the flat as well. John sometimes had to remind himself that there certainly were worst things Sherlock could be doing with his time. As it were, in between harassing John he had made a PayPAL account and solved "little trifles" over Facebook in record time.

Harry Watson;_  
>Where's my phone?<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Check the pockets of the jeans you'd worn last night. -SH<em>

Harry Watson;_  
>Not there.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Under your bed, towards the headboard, possibly in the corner. -SH<em>

Harry Watrson;_  
>Thanks.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
><em>_I've sent you a private message, with the link to my PayPal. -SH_

Harry Watson;_  
>John Watson is he serious?<em>

John Watson;_  
>I'll pay him Harry, just keep it in mind next time.<em>

John hated, completely hated, being brought into Sherlock's conversations on Facebook when they were related to his work, or to money. Especially when it was between Sherlock and Harry. To be fair, Harry did usually ask Sherlock stupid things. Things she could do for herself, but didn't want to bother with. John tried to have them settle it peacefully once but Harry made a big show of things;

"He's got such a massive brain! He can use it to help people for free."

"Nothing is free."

"Shove it off, you great git!"

"I'm sorry, was that an insult, or a way to show-off your inability to speak well?"

"Alright. Alright, girls stop it." John eventually interrupted, and decided to never leave the two of them alone again.

Sherlock muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Not a girl..."

Of course, more intricate affairs were also taken care of via Facebook. Some that Sherlock didn't even need to leave the flat for (which, was both good and bad.) John tried to encourage him to have face-to-face consultations with his online-clientele, but Sherlock refused. He believed his business on Facebook, and his business in real life, were two entirely separate things. John, to this day, isn't clear on where Sherlock draws the distinction, but he's glad Sherlock made such good money from the two.

Mary Smith;_  
>Mr. Holmes, I'm in a bit of a spot. Can you help me?<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>If you can provide monetary compensation, then yes. -SH<em>

Mary Smith;_  
>I can pay you.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Good. I charge a flat fee for every consultation taking less than 2 minutes. From then, the pay doubles itself according to time it takes to be resolved. Additional fee's that might be applicable are listed on my profile under 'info.' I will begin charging you now. -SH<em>

Mary Smith;_  
>Mr. Holmes I was given a very valuable object to hold for a family member, it is now gone. I think it's been stolen! I'm expected to return this object in the very near future. What should I do?<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Well, that was less than helpful. What is this object, who's was is it, where were you when you last had it, and why was it given to you, who was with you when you had it, where did you take it? Pray, be specific! -SH_

Mary Smith;_  
>I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, I'm just so flustered. Let me try again:<br>My great aunt lent to me her favorite necklace, it is a Exquisite Confidences by Boucheron, made of yellow-gold and diamonds. She lent it to me for a party I was attending, and sometime during the night it must have gotten away from me. I can't remember anyone suspicious, I was only with good friends. I hope this helps._

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>That is much better, Ms. Smith, aside from the horrendous grammatical errors. The predicament you find yourself in is not puzzling, nor is it worrisome. I am shocked you could not draw the conclusions yourself. A quick glance over your Wall, and the Wall of your friend Cindy Chester has revealed to me that on the night of the gala you were quite drunk.<br>Obviously you lost it in a drunken haze. You are not a large person, Ms. Smith, therefore your body cannot handle that much alcohol. I advise you never to drink so much again.  
>Another thing that was obvious was that your friend Marcia has suddenly become very frivolous. You should have drawn this conclusion by yourself by now. -SH<em>

Mary Smith;_  
>What?<br>_

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>During your drunken perambulations your friend Cindy stole your aunt's necklace, and gave it to your friend Marcia. As of the 17<em>_th__ Marcia has stopped complaining about her student loans, and has begun purchasing very fine clothes. The necklace you described is €__33,860. Easily enough for your friend to solve her crisis, then splurge on herself. I have already located multiple pawn shops in your area, and have sent you a private message with a list of the most likely ones where Marcia has sold your aunt's necklace. Report her, and Cindy, to the police immediately. -SH_

Mary Smith;_  
>Ur a genius, how can I ever repay you?<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>By purchasing a text book on the joys of grammar, and spelling. I have sent you a private message of my fees, as are applicable, and a link to my PayPal. You're welcome that I am not charging you a portion of the insurance money your aunt has, undoubtedly, already settled for. -SH<em>


	5. Wit is cultured insolence

A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter: Wit is cultured insolence.<p>

Rating: PG

* * *

><p>Keep this under your hat, but John rather liked talking to Sherlock over Yahoo. It wasn't his preferred messenger, but Sherlock and Skype didn't mix. No, John is never going to indulge the world with that fiasco. Just accept the fact that you will, likely, never see Sherlock playing with webcams. Awkward, terrible things occurred when Sherlock was on Skype... okay, so maybe someday John will share that because it IS pretty funny. But, you'll have to wait until Sherlock is out of earshot, or eye-shot, or any-of-the-five-senses-shot, because, really he'd kill John if anyone found out.<p>

'Seeing as that isn't the story, I digress; Sherlock over Yahoo, Sherlock via text, and Sherlock in real life were one in the same: bossy, rude, demanding, and blunt. John didn't care if those adjectives were practically synonyms of each other, they were his top-four words to describe Sherlock. That was if you didn't count: brilliant, a machine, genius, and _wow_ as descriptive words, and John didn't. The point is, Sherlock is always Sherlock, but sometimes different mediums make him easier to work with. John rather likes Yahoo-Sherlock because Yahoo-Sherlock seems to have a sense of humor, that or his disinterest sarcasm is coming off as dry-wit. John can't figure out which it is.

MedicJohn;_  
>Hullo Sherlock. Working on a case?<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>No. I'm bored. -SH<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Your screen-name sounds like an action figure.-SH<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Thank you.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>It wasn't a compliment. -SH<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Never is with you. You haven't got to initial everything, I know it's you.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Right.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Is the flat cold? Sarah's is freezing.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Wouldn't know. I've got the firing going.<em>

SherlockHolmes;  
><em>Why're you on the messenger if you're with Sarah? Shouldn't be you be doing something biological?<em>_  
><em>

MedicJohn;_  
>You're a funny one. No, Sherlock, she got called into the surgery last-minute.<br>_

MedicJohn;_  
>Are you busy?<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>A bit. Molly is talking to me over Facebook.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>:-*<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Stop it.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Sherlock and Molly sittin' in a tree<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>K-I-S-S-I-N-G<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>John, that is completely foul.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>First comes love then comes marriage then comes Sherlock with a baby carriage<br>_

SherlockHolmes;_  
>You're dead to me.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Just having a bit of fun.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Oh, don't be that way.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Sherlock, I'm serious.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>I'm throwing out your distilled flesh experiment if you don't stop pouting!<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>I don't care if it destroys your attempt to better mankind. It's going in the rubbish tin.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>You're the sidekick. You're supposed to assist me, not toss out my experiments.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Whatever it takes to keep you from acting like a child.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Stop it sidekick<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>There should be a comma there.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Last week you lectured me on how using perfect grammar "isn't entirely necessary while on Yahoo."<br>_

MedicJohn;_  
>That was last week.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I'm not amused.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>I sure as hell am.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Sherlock. Watch this video [link]<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>It's that Fallout game, isn't it?<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>It's from Fallout.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I can read, Watson, thanks.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>And, i<em>_t's not FROM Fallout, Holmes, it was added into the game. c:_

SherlockHolmes;  
><em>You, and your childish games, Watson.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>:3<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Why don't you just get a pokemon color too?<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Hm?<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>What in bloody hell are you talking about, Sherlock?<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Do you mean a Gameboy Color?<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I was insulting your intelligence. I thought that was elementary.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Like the solar system.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Shut up about the damn solar system!<br>_

MedicJohn;_  
>Holmes, a "pokemon color" doesn't exist. Unless you meant something like "Fire Red" the Charizard-themed game... or, would that be orange?<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Charizard?<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>John, you're reading too into this.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Well, you used the wrong term.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>:-o You talk about Pokemon yet you don't know what a Charizard is?<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Oh, Holmes...<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I was MOCKING you, John!<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>You failed at it.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Who cares about what a Charizard is or a gameboy whatever? The point was you're too involved with pop-culture. It's one of those things, like the solar system, that doesn't really matter!<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Don't reference it and I won't have to correct you, dear boy :3<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Very well. I'll just not mention that absurd, Japanese nonsense.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Aren't you a little old for pokemon?<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>You're never too old for pokemon :-)<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I highly disagree.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>And that's your opinion, Sherlock.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>This is what I think of you: <em>_=;_

ShelrockHolmes;_  
>And this is Mycroft: [*link to trololol video*]<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>I'll tell him that. I'm sure he'll love it.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I doubt he'll even understand it.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>I'm surprised you even understand it.<em>

SherlockHolmes;  
><em>I know a bit from a case prior to meeting you. Some girl got herself killed had to do with meme's. Countless hours of research. Deleted most of it, Thankfully.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>...did it involve a website called 4chan?<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>It did, actually.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>*shudders*<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>It frightens me the amount of knowledge you have in this subject, John.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>My nephew likes to teach me, Sherlock.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>You haven't got a nephew.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>Your only sibling is a lesbian.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>I have a brother.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>You do not.<em>

MedicJohn;  
><em>I do<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I'd like proof of this brother then.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Sure, Sherlock, another time. Sarah just got off, we're going for dinner. Ttyl.<em>

SherlockHolmes;_  
>I refuse to reply until you properly form your departure with real words in a coherent sentence instead of using some stupid abbreviation.<em>

MedicJohn;_  
>Your loss.<em>

[MedicJohn is offline.]


	6. Scoreboard

A crack-fic about Sherlock and John's antics in social-networking. Prompts are welcome, and reviews appreciated.

Hope you enjoy

Idris: You are so right about my less-than-perfect-Sherlock-grammar :'D lol. I'll work on that; like have someone beta it next time. Thanks!

* * *

><p>Chapter: Scoreboard<p>

Rating: PG

* * *

><p>Another thing that John sort of regretted about Sherlock joining Facebook was that he found it hilarious to write on people's walls in letter-form. John wasn't sure why. It probably harkened back to the detective's overly-dramatic, and Victorian sense of style. In short, it fit his idiom. Sherlock embraced his wild idiom with the whole of himself. Always, always, striving to be a bit more dramatic, a bit more over-the-top, a bit more of a posh git. John, though he was loathe to admit it, sort of enjoyed reading Sherlock's little letters on random Walls.<p>

_Dear Lestrade,  
>When you decide to admit defeat, you know where to find me.<br>-SH_

_Dear Anderson,  
>How's Sally?<br>-SH_

John did give him quite a lecture about keeping his deductions to himself. Anderson's wife was on his Facebook, listed as the woman he was married too. Sally and him managed to keep their relationship professional (only on Facebook, mind you) to keep their secret from getting out. Sherlock had no right to go telling everyone. Sherlock argued that Anderson had no right cheating on his wife. John's thick moral character got in the way on that one. Anderson really didn't have that right, but thankfully John managed to point out that wasn't the point. The point was the principal of the matter. Sherlock agreed to keep it to himself, sort of, after that.

However, he then turned his letters onto John.

_Dear John,  
>Your lack of attention is even more disconcerting than usual.<br>Love,  
>Sherlock.<em>

The love bit threw John through a loop. Love? And Sherlock wondered why people looked at them as if they were an item. He really was thick when it came to proper etiquette. Before replying, John posted a gooey-love-note on Sarah's wall to compensate for Sherlock's less-than-average behavior. Thank God Sarah was so understanding about Sherlock's eccentricities. He mulled awhile before settling on an impartial, and suitable response.

John Watson;_  
>The head must go.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Dear John,<br>If you'd look in the fridge, you'd see the head has been removed. Stop dwelling on the past, it is inconvenient._

John Watson;_  
>No.<em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>After I said that so nicely you're going to berate me like a child with a 'no'?<em> _That's hardly fair._

John Watson;_  
>Dear Sherlock,<br>If you want fair, go to a Faire._

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Dear John,<br>Oh, that was so funny I forgot to laugh. You're terrible at puns. And spelling.  
><em>

John Watson;_  
>Dear Sherlock,<br>I heard you laugh. It may have been sarcastic, but it was still a laugh._

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Dear John,<br>So suddenly you can hear through walls, can you?_

John Watson;_  
>Dear Sherlock,<br>Yes, precisely._

Sherlock Holmes_  
>Dear John,<br>That will be particularly useful on cases. Sadly, your short little legs can never quite keep up with me. Pity._

John Watson;_  
>Dear Sherlock,<br>that wasn't called for :C  
><em>

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Dear John,<br>Capital letters, proper punctuation, and the colon deserve more respect than to be slapped together to mime your current expression._

John decided to drop it then. Sherlock really was a great, big arse when he wanted to be. Not that John had been honestly offended by the crack at his height, he was used to them. He knew he could have pointed out that Sherlock resembled a snooty-scarecrow more than a man, but school-yard insults really were best left in the school-yard thirty years ago, not dredged back to the surface of one's mid-thirties flat. John moved to update his blog, but fifteen minutes later was notified that Sherlock commented on the post again. Feeling more apprehension that was really necessary, John opened the window.

Sherlock Holmes;_  
>Dear John,<br>Ignoring me doesn't make me go away._

John didn't fight the grin as it burst across his face. Sherlock, as ingenious as he was, was the biggest child John had ever met. Honestly, it was like living with a six-year-old trapped in a mans body. However, because Sherlock was not six, and because John didn't have to worry about hurting his flatmates feelings, he did not respond and instead clicked out of the window, his blog, and opened up a document entitled 'Score.' He gave himself another tally. Thus far, it was Sherlock 45, John 32. John's score had increased dramatically since Sherlock joined Facebook.


End file.
